


the winter of dead

by Mia_Zeklos



Series: Jon x Sansa Drabble Fest [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (not in the fic but somewhere in the likely near future), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kid Fic, The Long Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 04:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14012058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mia_Zeklos/pseuds/Mia_Zeklos
Summary: In the midst of the darkest times of the Long Night, Sansa tries to convince herself that life will find a way.





	the winter of dead

**Author's Note:**

> /Title taken from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQWs0AYFq4k), because it just fits so well/
> 
> Written for the Jonsa Drabble Fest at @jonsadrabbles on tumblr. This one was really nice to write, although it did make me more than a little sad, all things considered. Hope it's enjoyable and feedback is always welcome!
> 
> **Day Eight: night’s king | songs | the wall. 200 words.**

She couldn’t feel her hands anymore. Sansa had tried denying it for a while, even after she had passed the threshold of _painfully cold_ some hours ago, but now, as Jon’s fingers closed around hers in an attempt to warm them up, the realisation was inevitable – she could barely feel his touch.

“It’s late,” he said and what little she could make out of his features in the darkness around them was clouded with worry. It was almost as alarming as the quiet cries coming from the opposite direction and she no longer knew where to look. “We should try and get some sleep, or we’ll never manage to get through this.”

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” Sansa promised and got to her feet. Nearing the corner of the room, she studiously avoided looking through the window and the landscape that awaited there – the white ghost of the forest and everything that hid in the fog beyond it – and leant in over the crib there. It was easy, muscle memory, really, to start singing one of her favourite songs of eternal summer even as she heard her voice falter once the cold started creeping through the castle walls.


End file.
